It thinks quite different thoughts from then, and speaks with a different tongue.
The fences are broken, the cords are snapped, that tethered man's heart to home;
He ranges free as the wind or the wave, and changes his shore like the foam.
He drives his furrows through fallow seas, he reaps what the breakers sow,
And the flash of his iron flail is seen mid the barns of the barren snow.
He has lassoed the lightning and led it home, he has yoked it unto his need,
And made it answer the rein and trudge as straight as the steer or steed.
He has bridled the torrents and made them tame, he has bitted the champing tide,
It toils as his drudge and turns the wheels that spin for his use and pride.
He handles the planets and weights their dust, he mounts on the comet's car,
And he lifts the veil of the sun, and stares in the eyes of the uttermost star…
 
      "Very rousing," said Amelia. The swan dipped and seemed to fly faster, so that her hair was blown about her face. "Though it is scarcely Wheldrake. A different sort of verse altogether. Wheldrake writes of the spirit, Austin, it seems, of the world. Sometimes, however, it is good for those who are much in the world to spend a few quiet moments with a poet who can offer an insight or two as to the reasons why men act and think as they do…"
      "You do not and Wheldrake's preoccupations morbid, then?"
      "In excess, yes. You mentioned Swinburne…"
      "Aha! Goes too far?"
      "I believe so. We are told so. The fleshly school, you know…"
      Lord Jagged pretended (there was no other word) to notice the bemused, even bored, expressions of the Iron Orchid and Jherek Carnelian. "Look how we distress our companions, our very loved ones, with this dull talk of forgotten writers."
      "Forgive me. I began it — with a quotation from Wheldrake I found apt."
      "Those we have left are not penitents of any sort, Amelia."
      "Perhaps so. Perhaps the penitents are elsewhere."
      "Now I lose your drift entirely."
      "I speak without thinking. I am a little tired."
      "Look. The sea."
      "It is a lovely sea, Jagged!" complimented the Iron Orchid. "Have you only just made it?"
      "Not long since. On my way back. He turned to Jherek. "Nurse sends her regards, by the way. She says she is glad to hear that you are making a sensible life for yourself and settling down and that it is often the wild ones who make the best citizens in the end."
      "I hope to see her soon. I hold her in great esteem and affection. She re-united me with Amelia."
      "So she did."
      The swan had settled; they disembarked onto a pale yellow beach that was lapped by white foam, a blue sea. Forming a kind of miniature cove was a semi-circle of white rocks, most of them just a little taller than Jherek, apparently worn almost to spikes by the elements. The smell of brine was strong. White gulls flapped here and there in the sky, occasionally swooping to catch black and grey fish. The pale yellow beach, of fine sand, with a few white pebbles, was spread with a dark brown cloth. On pale yellow plates was a variety of brown food — buns, biscuits, beef, bacon, bread, baked potatoes, pork pies, pickles, pemmican, peppercorns, pattercakes and much more — and there was brown beer or sarsaparilla or tea or coffee to drink.
      As they stretched out, one at each station of the cloth, Amelia sighed, evidently glad to relax, as was Jherek.
      "Now, Lord Jagged," Amelia began, ignoring the food, "you said there was an alternative…"
      "Let us eat quietly for a moment," he said. "You will admit the common sense of becoming as calm as possible after today's events, I know."
      "Very well." She selected a prune from a nearby dish. He chose a chestnut.
      Conscious that the encounter was between Jagged and Amelia, Jherek and the Iron Orchid said little. Instead they munched and watched the seabirds wheeling while listening to the whisper of the waves on the shore.
      Of the four, the Iron Orchid, in her orchids, supplied the only brilliant colour to the scene; Jherek, Amelia and Lord Jagged were still in grey. Jherek thought that his father had chosen an ideal location for the picnic and smiled drowsily when his mother remarked that it was like old times. It was as if the world had never been threatened, as if his adventures had never taken place, yet now he had gained an entire family. It would be pleasant, he thought, to make a regular habit of these picnics; surely even Amelia must be enjoying the simplicity, the sunshine, the relative solitude. He glanced at her. She was thoughtful and did not notice him. As always, he was warmed by feelings of the utmost tenderness as he contemplated her grave beauty, a beauty which showed itself at its best when she was unaware of attention, as now, or when she slept. He smiled, wondering if she would agree to a ceremony, not public or grandiose as the ones they had recently witnessed but private and plain, in which they should be properly married. He was sure that she yearned for it.
      She looked up and met his eyes. She smiled briefly before speaking to his father: "And now, Lord Jagged — the alternative."
      "It is within my power," said Jagged, responding to her briskness, "to send you into the future."
      She became instantly guarded again. "Future? There is none."
      "Not for this world — and there will be none at all, when this week has passed. But we are still capable of moving back and forth in the conventional time-cycle — just for the next seven days. When I say 'the future' I mean, of course, 'the past' — I can send you forward to the Palaeozoic, as I originally hoped. You would go forward and therefore not be at all subject to Morphail's Law. There is a slight danger, though I would not say much. Once in the Palaeozoic you would not be able to return to this world and, moreover, you would become mortal."
      "As Olympians sent to Earth," she said.
      "And denied your god-like powers," he added. "The rings will not work in the Palaeozoic, as you already know. You would have to build your own shelters, grow and hunt your own food. There are no material advantages at all, though you would have the advice and help of the Time Centre, doubtless, if it remains. That, I must remind you, is subject to the Morphail Effect. If you intended to bear children…"
      "It would be unthinkable that I should not," she told him firmly.
      "…you would not have the facilities you have known in 1896. There would be a risk, though probably slight, of disease."
      "We should be able to take tools, medicines and so forth?"
      "Of course. But you would have to learn to use them."
      "Writing materials?"
      "An excellent idea. There would be no problem, I think I have an Enquire Within and a How Things Work somewhere."
      "Seeds?"
      "You would be able to grow most things — and think how they would proliferate, with so little competition. In a few hundred years' time, before your death almost certainly, what a peculiar ecology would develop upon the Earth! Millions of years of evolution would be bypassed. There is time-travel for you, if you like!"
      "Time to create a race almost entirely lacking in primitive instincts — and without need of them!"
      "Hopefully."
      She addressed Jherek, who was having difficulty coming to grips with the point of the conversation. "It would be our trust. Remember what we discussed, Jherek, dear? A combination of my sense of duty and your sense of freedom?"
      "Oh, yes!" He spoke brightly, breathlessly, as he did his best to assimilate it all.
      "What splendid children they could be!"
      "Oh, indeed!"
      "It will be a trial for you, too," said Jagged gently.
      "Compared with the trials we have already experienced, Lord Jagged, the ones to come will be as nothing."
      The familiar smile touched his lips. "You are optimistic."
      "Given a grain of hope," she said. "And you offer much more." Her grey eyes fixed on him. "Was this always part of your plan?"
      "Plan? Call it my own small exercise in optimism."
      "Everything that has happened recently — it might have been designed to have led up to this."
      "Yes, I suppose that's true." He looked at his son. "I could be envious of you, my boy."
      "Of me? For what, Father?"
      Jagged was contemplating Amelia again. His voice was distant, perhaps a touch sad. "Oh, for many things…"
      The Iron Orchid put down an unfinished walnut. "They have no time-machine," she said tartly. "And they have not the training to travel without one."
      "I have Brannart's abandoned machine. It is an excellent one — the best he has ever produced. It is already stocked. You can set off as soon as you wish."
      "I am not sure that life in the Palaeozoic is entirely to my taste," said Jherek. "I would leave so many friends behind, you see."
      "And you would age, dear," added the Orchid. "You would grow infirm. I cannot imagine…"
      "You said that we should have several hundred years, Lord Jagged?" Amelia began to rise.
      "You would have a life-span about the same as Methusalah's, at a guess. Your genes are already affected, and then there would be the prevailing conditions. I think you would have time to grow old quite gracefully — and see several generations follow you."
      "That is worthwhile immortality, Jherek," she said to him. "To become immortal through one's children."
      "I suppose so…"
      "And those children would become your friends," added his father. "As we are friends, Jherek."
      "You would not come with us?" He had so recently gained this father, he could not lose him so soon.
      "There is another alternative. I intend to take that."
      "Could not we…?"
      "It would be impossible. I am an inveterate time-traveller, my boy. I cannot give it up. There is still so much to learn."
      "You gave us the impression there was nothing left to explore," said Amelia.
      "But if one goes beyond the End of Time, one might experience the beginning of a whole new cycle in the existence of what Mrs. Persson terms 'the multiverse'. Having learned to dispense with time-machines — and it is a trick impossible to teach — I intend to fling myself completely outside the present cycle. I intend to explore infinity."
      "I was not aware…" began the Orchid.
      "I shall have to go alone," he said.
      "Ah, well. I was becoming bored with marriage. After today, anyway, it could scarcely be called a novelty!"
      Amelia went to stand beside a rock, staring landwards.
      Jherek said to Jagged: "It would mean that we should be parted forever, then — you and I, Jagged."
      "As to that, it depends upon my fate and what I learn in my explorations. It is possible that we shall meet. But it is not probable, my boy."
      "It would make Amelia happy," said Jherek.
      "And I would be happy," Lord Jagged told him softly. "Knowing that, whatever befalls me, you and yours will go on."
      Amelia wheeled round at this. "Your motives are clear at last, Lord Jagged."
      "If you say so, Amelia." From a sleeve he produced pale yellow roses and offered them to her. "You prefer to see me as a man moved entirely by self-interest. Then see me so!" He bowed as he presented the bouquet.
      "It is how you justify your decisions, I think," She accepted the flowers.
      "Oh, you are probably right."
      "You will say nothing, even now, of your past?"
      "I have no past." His smile was self-mocking. "Only a future. Even that is not certain,"
      "I believe," said Jherek suddenly, "that I weary of ambiguity. At least, at the Beginning of Time, there is little of that."
      "Very little," she said, coming to him. "Our love could flourish, Jherek dear."
      "We would be truly husband and wife?"
      "It would be our moral duty." Her smile held unusual merriment. "To perpetuate the race, my dear."
      "We could have a ceremony?"
      "Perhaps, Lord Jagged —"
      "I should be glad to officiate. I seem to remember that I have civil authority, as a Registrar…"
      "It would have to be a civil ceremony," she said.
      "We shall be your Adam and Bede after all, Jagged!" Jherek put his arm around his Amelia's waist. "And if we keep the machine, perhaps we could visit the future, just to see how it progressed, eh?"
      Lord Jagged shook his head. "If you go further forward, once you have stopped, you will immediately become subject to the Morphail Effect again. Therefore time travel will be impossible. You will be creating your future, but if you ever dare try to find out what the future will be like, then it will almost certainly cease to exist. You will have to reconcile yourself to making the most of one lifetime in one place. Amelia can teach you that." He stroked his chin. "There will be something in the genes, I suppose. And you already know much about the nature of Time. Ultimately a new race of time-travellers could exist, not subject to the Morphail Effect. It might mean the abolition of Time, as we have understood it up to now. And Space, too, would assume, therefore, an entirely different character. The experiment might mean —"
      "I think that we shall try not to indulge in experiments of that sort, Lord Jagged." She was firm.
      "No, no, of course not." But his manner remained speculative.
      The Iron Orchid was laughing. She, too, had risen to her feet, her orchids whispering as she moved. "At least, at the Beginning of Time, they'll be free from your further interference, Jagged."
      "Interference?"
      "And this world, too, may go its own way, within its limitations." She kissed her husband. "You leave many gifts behind you, cunning Lord of Canaria!"
      "One does what one can." He put his hand into hers. "I would take you with me, Orchid, if I could."
      "I think that temperamentally I am content with things as they are. Call me conservative, if you will, but there is a certain predictability about life at the End of Time which suits me."
      "Well, then, all our temperamental needs are satisfied. Jherek and Amelia go to work as colonists, founding a whole new culture, a new history, a new kind of race. It should prove very different, in some aspects, from the old one. I travel on, as my restless brain moves me. And you, dearest Orchid, stay. The resolution seems satisfactory."
      "There might be others here," Amelia said, after an internal struggle with her conscience, "who might also wish to become 'colonists'. Li Pao, for instance."
      "I had considered that, but it complicates matters. I am afraid that Li Pao is doomed to spend eternity in this particular paradise."
      "It seems a shame," she said. "Could you not —?"
      He raised a hand. "You accused me of manipulating Fate, Amelia. You are wrong — I merely offer a certain resistance to it. I win a few little battles, that is all. Li Pao's fate is now settled. He will dance with the others, at the End of Time." He made references to her quotation and as he did so he lifted his hat as if he acknowledged some previous point she had made. Jherek sighed and was glad of his own decision for, if nothing else, it would, as he had said, mean no more of these mysteries.
      "Then you condemn them all to this terrible mockery of existence." Amelia frowned.
      Jagged's laughter was frank. "You remain, in spite of all your experiences, a woman of your time, Amelia! Our beautiful Iron Orchid finds this existence quite natural."
      "It has a simplicity, you see," agreed the Orchid, "which I did not find, for instance, in your age, my dear. I do not have the courage, I suppose, to confront such complications as I witnessed in 1896. Though," she hastened to add, "I enjoyed my short visit thoroughly. I suppose it is mortality which makes people rush about so. This world is more leisurely, probably because we are not constrained by the prospect of death. It is, I would be the first to admit, entirely a matter of taste. You choose your work, your duty, and your death. I choose pleasure and immortality. Yet, if I were in your position, I should probably make the decisions you have made."
      "You are the most understanding of mothers-in-law!" cried Amelia, hugging her. "There will be some things I shall regret leaving here."
      The Iron Orchid touched Amelia's neck with a hand subtly coloured to match her costume; her tongue moistened her lower lip for an instant; her expression caused Amelia to blush. "Oh, indeed," breathed the Orchid, "there is much we might have done together. And I shall miss Jherek, of course, as I am sure will Jagged."
      Amelia became her old, stern self. "Well, there'll be little time to make all the arrangements necessary before we leave, if we go tomorrow."
      "Tomorrow?" said Jherek. "I was hoping…"
      "It would be best to go as soon as possible," she told him. "Of course, if you have changed your mind and wish to remain with — your parents, and your friends…"
      "Never. I love you. I have followed you across a world and through Time. I will go with you wherever you choose, Amelia."
      Her manner softened. "Oh, my dear." She linked her arm in his.
      Lord Jagged said. "I suggest we stroll along the beach for a bit." He offered an exquisite arm to Amelia and, after scarcely any hesitation at all, she took it. The Iron Orchid took Jherek's free arm, and thus joined, they began to walk along the pale yellow shore; as handsome and as happy a family group as any one might find in history.
      The sun was starting to sink as Amelia stopped, dropped Jherek's arm and began to turn one of her power-rings, "I could not resist a last indulgence," she apologized.
      The yellow beach became a white promenade, with green wrought-iron railings, stretching, it seemed, to infinity. The rocky interior became rolling green hills, a little golf-course. She created a red and white-striped bandstand, in which a small German band, not dissimilar to the larger one made by the Duke of Queens, began to play Strauss. She paused, then turned another ring, and there was a white and green rococo pier, with flags and bunting and variously coloured lamps decorating its iron-work, stretching out to sea. She made four deck-chairs, brilliantly striped, appear on the beach below the promenade. She created four large ice-cream cornets so that they had one each.
      It was almost twilight now, as they continued to stroll, admiring the twinkling lights of the pier which were reflected in the calm, dark blue sea.
      "It is beautiful," said the Iron Orchid. "May I keep it, when you have gone?"
      "Let it be my monument," she said.
      They all began to hum the tune of the waltz; Lord Jagged even danced a few jaunty steps as he finished his ice-cream, tilting his topper over one eye, and everyone laughed. They stopped when they came close to the pier. They leaned on the railings, staring out across the glistening water. Jherek put his arm about her shoulders; Lord Jagged embraced his own wife, and the distant band played on.
      "Perhaps," said Jherek romantically, "we shall be able to make something like this in the Palaeozoic — not immediately of course, but when we have a larger family to build it."
      She smiled. "It would be pleasant to dream about, at least."
      The Iron Orchid sighed. "Your imagination will be a great loss to us at the End of Time, Amelia. But your inspiration will remain with us, at least."
      "You flatter me too much."
      "I think she is right," said Lord Jagged of Canaria, producing a pale yellow cigarette. "Would you mind, Amelia?"
      "Of course not."
      Lord Jagged began to smoke, looking upward at the infinite blackness of the sky, his features once again controlled and expressionless, the tip of his cigarette a tiny glowing ember in the gathering twilight. The sun, which he and the cities had created, burned deepest crimson on the horizon and then was gone, leaving only a smear of dusky orange behind it; then that, too, faded.
      "So you'll leave tomorrow," said Jagged.
      "If it is possible."
      "Certainly. And you have no fears? You are content with your decision?"
      "We are content." Jherek spoke for them both, to reassure her.
      "I was truly divorced from Harold," she said, "when he refused to let me return with him. And, after you have married us, Lord Jagged, I do not think I shall feel even a hint of guilt about any of my decisions."
      "Good. And now…" Lord Jagged drew his wife from the rail, escorting her along the promenade, leaving the lovers alone.
      "It is growing a little chilly," she said.
      Jherek produced a cloak for her, of gold-trimmed ermine, and placed it around her shoulders. "Will this do?"
      "It is a trifle ostentatious." She stroked the fur. "But since this is our last night at the End of Time, I think I can allow myself the luxury."
      He bent to kiss her. Gently, she took his face in her hands. "There will he so much, Jherek, that we shall have to learn together. Much that I will have to teach you. But do not ever, my dear, lose that joyous spirit. It will be a wonderful example to our children, and their children, too."
      "Oh, Amelia! How could I lose it, for it is you who make me joyful! And I shall be a perfect pupil. You must explain it all to me again and I am sure that I shall learn it eventually."
      She was puzzled. "What is it I must explain to you, my dear?"
      "Guilt," he said.
      They kissed.